


The Shade of Cigar Smoke

by Ladycat



Series: In the Middle of Dinner [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dehumanization, Dirty Talk, Feminization, M/M, Omega Steve Rogers, Voyeurism, a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25947574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: It’s dinner. Nothing special, just—dinner. Raucous, boisterous, with more food than a college dormitory spread out over a massive table. Bucky is enjoying himself. It’s not new, precisely, but it’s still novel enough that he’s trying to savor it.And he knows what’ll make it better.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: In the Middle of Dinner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902889
Comments: 26
Kudos: 254





	The Shade of Cigar Smoke

It’s dinner. Nothing special, just—dinner. Raucous, boisterous, with more food than a college dormitory spread out over a massive table. Bucky is enjoying himself. It’s not new, precisely, but it’s still novel enough that he’s trying to savor it.

And he knows what’ll make it better.

Rising, he wanders into the kitchen to find Steve rinsing plates and stacking them to load in the dishwasher. It’s impossibly charming. Stevie’d done this when they were kids too, helping Bucky’s ma with a seriousness that never faded, even long after he’d lost the status of ‘guest’. Damn goodie two-shoes.

Placing himself directly behind Steve, it’s the work of maybe a second to reach under Steve’s arms, unbuttoning his pants to shove those and his boxers past his hips. Another and he’s got two fingers directly against Steve’s hole, rubbing briskly.

“Bucky?” The question is faint underneath the rushing water, but breathlessly high-pitched. “What—what’re you doing?”

Rolling his eyes is useless given their position but he can’t help it. What’s he _doing?_ S’damn obvious what he’s doing. Not bothering to answer, Bucky instead tests by pressing _down_ and _in_ , pleased when Steve’s rim gives sweetly, the first hot rush of slick coating him down to the knuckle.

“Grab the sink,” he orders.

“ _Bucky_ —” Steve starts, turning off the water and obviously gearing up for a speech.

Because he’s a little punk. Bucky’s feelings on his metal hand are pretty complicated even on good days, but one thing he always appreciates is how easily it lets him manhandle Captain America. A good shove gets Steve bent over the sink—still weakly protesting—while Bucky takes advantage of his force-learned ambidextrous skill to open his own pants just enough to get his cock out and shove right in.

Whatever Steve’s been trying to say dissolves into a shocky whimper.

Like he’d thought—this absolutely makes it better. Steve is always so fluttery-hot and snug, slick easing the first few rough thrusts into an easy glide. Bucky keeps the pace punishing, chasing after the pleasure he’s craved. The plates start to rattle in tune with the little huffs and whines Steve makes as he’s knocked repeatedly into the counter.

“Bucky,” he tries again.

“Mm, fuck, love this ass, Stevie. Always so damn tight for me. Spread your legs wider.”

Tight khakis don’t allow for a lot of give but after a few more thrusts Steve tentatively shifts enough that he’s able to widen his stance.

“Good boy,” Bucky grunts, approving of the new angle.

A burst of laughter approaches, resolving into Stark and Miss Potts as they enter the kitchen, both carrying another stack of dishes to be cleaned. “There you are,” Stark greets jovially. “You disappeared.”

“What, I miss you losing the bet to Banner?”

“I will have you know—”

“That you lost, doubled down, and lost again?” Miss Pott’s is at her sweetest when she teases Stark, mostly because he’s never learned how to respond outside of scowling.

Which Stark does, right on cue. “I did no such thing.”

“He did absolutely such a thing,” she teases, smirking at Stark before glancing back over to Bucky. “Will you be long? One of Bruce’s forfeits is choosing tonight’s movie.”

Bucky pries one of Steve’s hands free of the counter, folding it into the small of his back so Steve’s forced into a low arch. The change in depth has him mewling, hiccupping little sounds. So damn pretty. Bucky savors it for a few moments, then asks, hopefully, “Coen Brothers?”

“Probably.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Gimme ten?”

“You can have twenty,” Miss Potts promises, reaching out to idly stroke Steve’s head. “I know how much you like making him clean you up afterward and Thor isn’t done with dessert yet, anyway.”

“Oh god, baked Alaska again?” Stark whines. “Count me out.”

“Suit yourself,” Miss Potts shrugs and with a final pat and a little approving croon, she heads back to the dining room.

Stark stays. Watching. By now Bucky is panting a little, sweat beading pleasantly along his hairline. Poor Stevie is flushed a delicious red past the collar of his shirt only to reappear on his exposed belly, huffing and rocking into every thrust. It’s distracting and Bucky would like to focus on it, so he offers Stark a raised eyebrow. “You need something?”

“I’m always surprised how noisy he is. He’s Captain America! Strong, stoic type. He shouldn’t sound like a porno.”

“Captain America,” Bucky agrees, “is the strong, stoic type. But Stevie Rogers? He’s nothing but a cock-hungry little slut of an omega. Aren’t you, boy? Yeah, always has been too, long before he got all buff. Look at you, bucking those hips to get my fat cock deeper in your pussy. Give him a little taste and he goes desperate for it, so damn anxious to prove what a sweet ride he can be. Watch.”

Maintaining his hold on Steve, just in case, Bucky draws himself back until only the head of his cock remains inside of Steve. Mentally counts five, four, three—

Before ‘three’ ends, Steve makes a desperate, broken sound and starts fucking himself backward onto Bucky’s cock, his big, heaving body straining and so obviously needy. A litany of _please_ and _more_ and _deeper_ and _alpha_ slurs into one continuous, pleading steam.

It’s gorgeous.

Stark clearly agrees by his low whistle. “You, my friend, won the alpha lottery.”

Bucky’s shrug is modest, because yeah. He really did.

“Well, take your time. Like Pep said, Thor’s busy with dessert and I’m sure the others can distract themselves until you get back. You let him come?”

The idle tone is good, enough that most are probably fooled. Bucky isn’t ‘most’, however, and offers a sharp-edged grin. “Why?” he asks, knowing full well that while it isn’t quite permission, it’s not a warn-off, either.

And Stark always does take his inches in mile-sized chunks.

“He sure leaks a lot,” Stark continues, wearing a shitty little grin as he reaches out and cups that sweet, bouncing little omega cock, rubbing it lightly. “He’s like a flood.”

That, too, is just Stevie, no serum or vita ray necessary, but Bucky isn’t telling Stark that. Instead he matches the grin and edges them back just enough to get Stark’s hold on Steve to release, a string of clear fluid attached to his hand go thinner and thinner until it finally breaks.

“What I do with my omega,” Bucky growls, “is between me and my omega.”

“Possessive bastard,” Stark laughs, accepting the rebuke with good grace. Cleaning off his hand, he strokes over Steve’s face with the same absent affection as Miss Potts before departing.

Living at the Tower is insane. Bucky’s pretty glad to be here, though. Alone again, Bucky focuses on driving himself into the sweet wet clutch of Steve’s ass, chasing that familiar heat licking up his spine until he’s mouthing the back off Steve’s neck with biting little kisses that make Steve _whine_ so perfectly.

“My omega,” Bucky croons, “always so ready for your alpha’s cock. You want my come, honey? Want me to breed you up? Pretty omega, who’m I?”

And sure, it might be cliché, but it doesn’t stop it from being so damn hot when Steve breathes, “Alpha, alpha, _want it_.”

Bucky comes hard enough that his vision hazes, losing situational awareness until he’s completely emptied himself. It’s—nice. Just really nice. Nice enough that he doesn’t mind when Miss Potts come bustling back, smiling sweetly when she takes in Stevie’s completely fucked out appearance, still shivering under Bucky’s weight.

“Oh, he’s really so lovely,” she coos, glancing up at Bucky for permission before cupping Steve’s face, tilting his head back so she can see his eyes. “Did your alpha fuck you so well? Did you like it when he used you to feel good?”

Steve’s nod is weak but heart-felt—or at least it is to Bucky, who gets to feel Steve try to milk his cock for any last bits of come. “He agrees,” Bucky tells her, chuckling. “Did I take too long?”

“Hm? Oh, no, Tony’s arguing with Bruce, you know his irrational dislike of _True Grit_. I just thought you might like this.” She holds up a thick plug, dark blue and ribbed.

“Thank you, Miss Potts,” Bucky says, quickly working it inside of Steve once he’s slipped out. The base has a flare to it, offering a convenient means of holding onto the plug. Useful. It figures that she’s noticed how much Bucky enjoys playing with Steve’s ass during movies—the omega has to work so deliciously hard to stay quiet. “You really do think of everything.”

Miss Potts shrugs, looking almost bashful, despite how formidable Bucky knows she is. “Well you’re only just getting him calm, and omegas get so fussy when they leak. Anyway, don’t let me interrupt. I know he’ll need a mouthful of come to really settle. I don’t suppose I could see him on his knees for you? Just for a moment.”

“You heard her, Stevie. Kneel.”

It takes Steve a moment, still reeling from the rough fuck and then the plug. Steve loves being plugged, it can keep him floating for hours if Bucky allows it. This one seems to be finding all the right spots if Steve’s ragged breathing and slightly wild-eyed gaze means anything. Still, Bucky allows him the few moments because he knows Steve will obey—and he does. Shivering with effort, Steve slowly gets himself turned around and sinks down so his knees bump the inside of Bucky’s feet.

“Oh, that’s just so pretty,” Miss Potts sighs. “He’s really adoring.”

Bucky nods, carding a sweaty lank of Steve’s hair from his face. “Always is, once he gets a cock in him.”

“Were you his first?” Miss Potts seems unable to look away as she leans against the counter.

“His only,” Bucky agrees. “Open your mouth, Stevie. Miss Potts is right, you need a mouthful of come to get settled, and I need my cock cleaned. Get to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... I have not written in so long I'm afraid the muscle has completely atrophied. Hopefully not.
> 
> Blame [whendoestheshipsail]() because she has been encouraging me and also feeding me the _best_ sub!steve stucky ever. It's delicious. Go read her stuff. Then praise her.


End file.
